


Our Own Eden

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Sex, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Gardens & Gardening, Growth, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Plants, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale want to have sex but...There's a slight hitch.





	Our Own Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lie Back And Think Of Dinner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19136509) by [jessthereckless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessthereckless/pseuds/jessthereckless). 



> Not directly an answer to, but certainly very much inspired by, Lie Back And Think Of Dinner, by jessthereckless, linked in the Inspired section!

"A cottage?” Aziraphale asked softly. “Really?”

“Really, really,” Crowley said, shifting his grip on the wheel and giving Aziraphale a smile. “It’s bought and paid for, I have a catalogue for you to pick out furniture... And you know what, angel? You know what the best part is?”

“What’s that, dear?”

“Middle of nowhere. Five miles of disused farmland on all sides.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, and then he shifted in his seat, turning to face forward. His cheeks flushed brightly pink, and the car smelt of fresh flowers and new grass. “ _Oh_.”

The problem with being an ethereal being (or an occult one, take your pick) is that one doesn’t really  _fit_  in a corporeal body. This manifests in different ways. For angels and demons, they often burst out of the physical bodies they’re allotted by their departments: gold flakes shine from beneath the skin, or scales burst through where flesh should be; creeping, crawling things slip out from ears and nostrils, or you exude such a delightful cloud of fresh lavender that every allergen-sensitive human within half a mile of you bursts out into hives and anaphylaxis. 

For Crowley, a lot of his  _inhumanity_  was inhuman - he had a funny, snakey spine, a long tongue, yellow eyes, scaley feet. For Aziraphale... Well, he  _looked_  normal. He looked very normal indeed, aggressively normal, actually. It was his  _presence_  that was the funny thing. It was probably the garden that had done it - Eden, all that time ago.

The last time Crowley had held his hand, flowers had bloomed in their wake as they’d walked through St James’ Park. When Crowley last kissed him at the Ritz, the vase of three roses on their table had shattered when the pretty blooms laid down their roots and formed a bush. And when Crowley, on a picnic, had suggestively slid his hand over Aziraphale’s thigh...

Well.

He’d had to miracle up a machete to hack their way out of the six-foot tall wheat sheafs that had sprung up on every side of them.

But this time? This time, Crowley was ready. He’d bought the cottage. He’d planted the seeds. He’d set out his greenhouse, and he’d planted the young trees. For the past few weeks, he’d been hard at work, sprinkling wildflower seeds and fruit seeds and vegetable seeds, all around...

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, and he leaned his head against Crowley, letting Crowley wrap his arm around the angel. The lavender-scented air freshener became much more lavender-shaped, and grew two leaves. “You’re going to  _deflower_  me.”

“Angel,” Crowley murmured, “I am going to do anything but.”

\--

Aziraphale watched, fidgeting, as Crowley laid out a picnic blanket. From the car, then, he set out some thick pillows for Aziraphale to lay back on, some more blankets, in case they got cold, some wine, a picnic basket… He wished he could control it. It would get easier, he supposed, but when Crowley touched him his whole spirit seemed to thrum to meet him, and instead of meeting _Crowley_ , it met— Well, everything else. It was so _embarrassing_ …

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, and he could scarcely help the way his heart swelled, how _warm_ he felt, the anticipation tingling beneath his skin. He wanted, oh, how he wanted. He had wanted Crowley since the Beginning, but _this_ want, this was new, edged with a sharp set of corners, for Crowley to touch him, hold him, _devour_ him… Crowley grinned up at Aziraphale, and then he knelt on the blanket, gesturing for Aziraphale to come forward.

Aziraphale knelt down. He could have—

He _could_ be more involved. He could reach for Crowley’s clothes as much as Crowley was reaching for his, could kiss him, could perhaps even pin Crowley beneath him – his skin thrilled at the thought – but it was… _Difficult_. He felt nervous. It was— It was always so much easier, when he let Crowley take control, let Crowley be in charge.

Later. There’d be time, later, for Aziraphale to initiate things, for him to drive, but for now—

Crowley kissed him, and Aziraphale sighed into his mouth, his hands trembling before they alighted gently on Crowley’s skinny hips. Crowley’s mouth was warm and soft, his lips smacking quietly against Aziraphale’s own, and then he tilted Aziraphale’s head back and let his _tongue_ slide against Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale yelped. He knew it was happening, _knew_ , but he just couldn’t bear to stop, not when Crowley’s lips yielded so perfectly before his own, drawing Aziraphale closer to him, drawing closer, in turn, to Aziraphale.

“What sort of effort should I— should I make?” Aziraphale asked against Crowley’s mouth as they broke apart, and Crowley chuckled, setting his sunglasses aside.

“Well, what effort do you _want_ to make, angel? Penis? Vagina? Cloaca?”

“What’s a— A _what_?”

Crowley laughed, and he kissed the side of Aziraphale’s neck: for a few moments, Aziraphale’s mind was a hot, white blank. He heard, at the edge of his focus, the rubbery, shooting sound of a sapling coming out of the ground far faster than it ought.

“Why don’t we try one first, and then the other?” Crowley asked, his breath hot in Aziraphale’s ear, and Aziraphale shuddered.

“What do _you_ have?”

“Right now? A penis. Hand-crafted, sixteenth-century, gothic arches, one owner from new.”

“You’re not funny, Crowley.”

“Aren’t I?” Crowley’s fingers brushed against the side of Aziraphale’s jaw, and Aziraphale looked past him at the grass around them. It was definitely looking… _Colourful_. Flowers had burst up from the ground in a circle around them, and near them, a young apple tree had sprung up where there’d been no tree before. “Why don’t you start you off with a cunt, Aziraphale? I watch _you_ eat all the time – you can watch _me_.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale said, and Crowley smiled at him. He radiated such _confidence_ , and yet Aziraphale could feel his heart thumping out a samba beneath his handsome black shirt, and he didn’t miss the way Crowley’s hands trembled as they began to unbutton Aziraphale’s clothes. He was awfully, mercilessly slow about it, gently caressing every line of Aziraphale’s skin as he pushed off his suit jacket, his waistcoat, his blouse, his undershirt, his trousers, his _fucking spats_ …

Aziraphale shivered as Crowley unclothed him entirely, left his clothes neatly folded on a conjured chair beneath the growing shade of the apple tree, and pushed Aziraphale gently onto his back, reclining on all the pillows.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this, angel?” Crowley asked, pressing kisses down Aziraphale’s chest. “You know how long I’ve wanted you spread out beneath me? Like a _feast_ …” He bit at Aziraphale’s belly, nipping at the soft skin, and Aziraphale gasped, his legs falling open entirely without meaning to. “Oh, smell _that_ …” Crowley’s pupils dilated quite visibly, thickening until they were almost like discs, and his tongue, forked at its end and _most_ dextrous, slipped out of his mouth and tasted the air. “You know what that is, angel?”

“Mm-mm,” Aziraphale hummed his negative, scarcely trusting his mouth to make proper words, and Crowley’s lips shifted into a dastardly smirk.

“That’s _you_ , angel. Getting wet and dewy for me, aren’t you?”

“Oh— Oh, _Crowley_ —”

“That’sss it, angel,” Crowley hissed, pressing his fingers into Aziraphale’s thighs and _grabbing_ at him, squeezing the flesh there. “Want the big, bad demon to fuck you in the dirt?”

“I want him to make love to me,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, “in a meadow of our own making. Our own Eden, Crowley, that’s all I ever wanted—”

“ _Bless_ , angel,” Crowley swore, and cupped his cheeks to kiss him again. He was hot between Aziraphale’s legs, and Aziraphale could scarcely bear the hot tingling on his skin, that ran between his thighs like water, the flesh hot and aching. He could feel Crowley between his legs, not coming close enough to brush against him, and oh, oh, Aziraphale felt—

 _Empty_. Not in an obvious way, but he could feel himself open, feel the wetness of his own flesh, feel a place where Crowley could slip in, closer, _closer_ —

Crowley dragged away, kissing and biting down the spread of Aziraphale’s chest, and then he slipped between Aziraphale’s legs and _licked_ him, and Aziraphale’s cry echoed over their garden, making bulbs and seeds burst out of their casements and rush up to brush the sky.

\--

Aziraphale tasted a thousand times better than Heaven ever could, and Crowley wound his arms around the angel’s thighs, putting himself to his task with enthusiasm and _noise_. He swept his tongue sloppily either side of Aziraphale’s outer lips, feeling the pink flesh twitch and jump under his mouth, and Aziraphale was making so much noise that he _thrilled_ – and this was just the start! He hadn’t even _started_ properly yet, and Aziraphale was gasping, choking…

Crowley closed his mouth around Aziraphale’s clit and sucked, delighting in the way the angel arched right off the blanket, and he inhaled, took in the scent of Aziraphale ( _ozone and wing oil and fresh tea and books and want and velvet and clotted cream_ ) and the scent of the garden around them ( _lavender and bedelias and lilies and poppies and daisies and new grass and new everything_ ) mingling together.

“Good effort, angel,” Crowley said, putting his hands either side and playing gently over the outer parts of him, massaging either side of his cunt and feeling him, watching the way a little attention on his outer lips made his inner ones twitch and jump. Aziraphale was dusted with white-blond hair here, too, neatly trimmed.

Crowley squeezed, just slightly, and he watched Aziraphale _sigh_ , his head tipping back.

“Oh,” he said blissfully, slurring his words just slightly, “your tongue, Crowley…”

“My tongue?” Crowley asked, playing his wet thumb over Aziraphale’s clit and watching it jump, watching his muscles _clench_ around bare air. “What about it, sweetheart?”

“I should like to sample more of it,” Aziraphale mumbled. “If you please.”

“Oh, and I _do_ please, angel,” Crowley said, and dipped his head down again, pressing sloppy kisses around Aziraphale’s cunt, delighting in the way his thighs twitched and spasmed, spreading even further apart, and then Crowley slid his tongue in.

The apple tree beside them _shot_ upward, throwing out its branches, and Crowley could feel the sharp, sudden movement of plants growing at maddening paces on every side, could feel the ground shifting and quaking beneath them as it was disturbed by sprawling roots, and he closed his eyes, fucking Aziraphale with his tongue.

He took it slowly.

No harm in drawing it out a bit – not _teasing_ , not being too cruel to his angel, not bringing him to the edge and then grabbing him back, but just letting him inch closer, little by little… It was wonderful, seeing the tension coiling in Aziraphale’s thighs, seeing them get tenser and tenser, feeing him coil up so _tight,_ and this _cunt_ —

“Might not let you have a cock, angel,” Crowley murmured, pressing his face right up against Aziraphale and not caring of the wetness on his chin, on his cheeks. “This is just too _perfect_.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said urgently, and one of his hands, which had been tightened in the blanket, came to grab at his hair instead. “Oh, Crowley, please, I do— What’s it like?”

“What’s it _like_?” Crowley asked, and interrupted himself to suck Aziraphale’s clit again, sliding two fingers into him and pressing down just a little bit, just to give him a taste of what it would feel like, when Crowley slid inside him. And Crowley… He was _excited_. He’d tried sex, a little, right at the Beginning, with other demons down in the Pit, but he’d never really kept up with it, never been _interested_ like they were, and this was Aziraphale, this was _him_ — “Mmm, it’s like— It’s like you’re a bowstring, angel, drawn tighter and tighter, and when you get to the edge, it’s like the bowstring’s let loose.”

Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley suckled at him messily, laving his tongue around Aziraphale’s clit and feeling the tension build up on the _air_ , felt Aziraphale’s want fill the atmosphere with desperate tension. He was hot now, too, and he was hard in his trousers, hard, and _desperate_ , but he wanted to see Aziraphale come first, just once—

There were flowers on every side, now, every flower under the sun, and more than that were the plants: thousands of bulbs had given way to bushes and shrubs, roots and tubers, hedges, vines, and the trees…

Crowley sucked, crooking his fingers up, and the _noise_ Aziraphale made—

It was ecstasy, just hearing it, a choked up, hoarse moan that came from low in Aziraphale’s throat and _echoed_ over the fields they were slap-bang in the middle of. Crowley heard a smash as one of the panes in his greenhouse shattered, an olive tree forcing its way up through the glass, and the earth _shook_ , flowers blooming and shooting up on every side.

He could barely hold himself back, letting Aziraphale ride it through, sobbing, gasping in his wonderful, _wonderful_ noises as Crowley mouthed at his clit; Crowley was unbuttoning his trousers even as he took him through it.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, breathless, “oh, Crowley—”

“I need to,” Crowley moaned against his thigh, “I need to, angel, can I, can I…?”

“Please—”

Crowley scrambled on top of Aziraphale, feeling the way Aziraphale grabbed clumsily at him, his fingers weak, his body loose and easy, lining himself up and sliding in. Aziraphale was hot and wet on every side, and as Crowley choked out a desperate, yowling moan against Aziraphale’s neck, smearing the skin with the wetness still lingering to his chin, the heavens opened, and the skies thundered as water poured down in steel sheets.

\--

“ _Oh_ ,” Aziraphale moaned as Crowley thrust within him, wrapping his arms around the demon to pull him closer, and he felt the air grow a little cooler as rain came down heavy and hard, but they were under a natural umbrella, now: the apple tree had sprawled into a great canopy over their heads, its boughs thick and heavy, as if it had been there a hundred years already. “Oh, Crow— _Crowley_ , that storm— it isn’t m— me, oh—”

“No, angel, sss’me, can’t help it, you’re so _perfect_ ,” Crowley all but growled, dragging his teeth down the side of Aziraphale’s neck, and Aziraphale sobbed out a noise, wrapping his legs more tightly around Crowley’s, trying to pull him in closer. “Feel good? Not hurting you?”

“It’s splendid,” Aziraphale assured him, and unheeding of the mess, pulled Crowley to kiss him again, tasting himself on Crowley’s infernal tongue. It _was_ exquisite, too, the sensation of him: Crowley’s prick within him, the hot pulse of him, so hot and flush, a wonderful _filling_ …

And when Crowley _came_ , the hot _spatter_ of it, the way his whole body drew up so deliciously tightly—

They were both breathing heavily, although strictly, they didn’t need to.

“You want me to get you off again?” Crowley asked, and the way he was lying on Aziraphale’s body, sprawled over him, so relaxed— It was quite nice. _Heavy_ , but warm, like a weighted blanket.

“I think— I think one was alright for now,” Aziraphale mumbled, feeling the burn of his skin all over, so pink and flush as he was, and Crowley pulled back. The sensation when he slipped out was— Well, frankly, rather odd, and he certainly felt the loss of him.

“Well, look upon your work, Aziraphale,” Crowley said smugly, kneeling between Aziraphale’s legs and absently massaging Aziraphale’s trembling thighs. “Do you see that it is _good_?”

“I hardly think there’s any call for that sort of irony,” Aziraphale muttered, but he let Crowley pull him to sit up, looking out over the sprawling garden. When they’d started, it had been flat, green plains on all sides, but for the hedgerows, and now…

The grass was a few feet high in patches, and all manner of flowers bloomed in a technicolour carpet of wondrous petals; an orchard had sprung up, too, and Aziraphale saw that the trees were weighted down with oranges, lemons, pomegranates, pears, currants, figs… Bushes, too, with blackberries and blueberries, with _gooseberries_ , and oh, pineapples, and then, more than that, were the vines and crawling plants… Crowley’s poor greenhouse had lost a few panes to an olive tree that was most unusually tall, and the cottage, which had been painted in a neat white-wash, was now covered over in green ivy and pink rambling roses.

Above them, its leaves still dripping with the rain that had stopped as suddenly as it had started, was the apple tree, and just above them, red as rubies and hanging tantalisingly close to where they lay down together, was an apple.

Crowley reached up, lazily, and it dropped into its waiting palm.

Aziraphale looked down at it, seeing the way it _shone_ in the summer light, its crisp, burnished skin, and he could _smell_ it, too, perfectly ripe…

“Our own Eden, you said,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale looked at him, at his yellow eyes, his smirking lips. “Want a bite?”

“Tempter,” Aziraphale murmured, still feeling dazed and bleary. “Yes, please.”

And Crowley gave it to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that [the Tadfield Advertiser](https://tadfield-advertiser.dreamwidth.org/517.html) and the [Good Omens Prompt Meme](https://onthedisc.dreamwidth.org/9084.html) are both up and running, and people should definitely go leave prompts and fills on both!!


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